


The Best Part of Waking Up

by Miyai



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Established Relationship, Father/Son Incest, I'm Going to Hell, Inspired by the Folgers Christmas Commercial, M/M, The Author Regrets Everything, it's so fluffy I'm gonna die
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 16:54:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8999113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miyai/pseuds/Miyai
Summary: Carl and Rick spend the Christmas morning together.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For L. Thanks for pulling me into this hell. Hope you like the story.  
> And if you've never seen the famous Folgers Commercial and don't know what I'm talking about, what are you doing with your life?

Carl usually slept in on Sundays. Usually. Schooldays were stressful enough, even when his dad gave him a ride to school, so he tried to get his fill of sleep when he could.

_Even when you were a baby you used to sleep like the dead_ , his father once told him.  _No crying, no fussing._

The same held true still. The biggest challenge for Rick now was probably getting Carl to wake up in the morning. It was only made worse by the fact the Carl had been spending the night in Rick's bed for about six months now. He felt so safe, so protected, so  _loved_ there. Maybe that was why he subconsciously allowed himself to slumber so deeply. With his dad's arms slung around him, his chest to Carl's back, there was no way the nightmares and monsters under the bed could get him. 

But this morning was different. When Carl woke, rubbing the sleep blearily out of his eyes, the other side of the bed was empty, and cold. He extended his hand, looking for a trace of left-over warmth on the messy sheets, but there was none. So his dad must have gotten up a good while ago.

Carl couldn't help feeling a little disappointed. Yesterday evening, after slow, tender sex on the couch down in the living room, his dad had carried him to the bed and they had fallen asleep, their limbs entangled and their hearts beating out the same rhythm.

So Carl had thought that Rick might be up for some lazy snuggling and maybe, most definitely,  _more_ , maybe even spending the whole morning in bed before Rick had to drive Carl over to Lori's house so he could spend a part of Christmas with his mom. 

It had been like this ever since the divorce, Carl's time split between his parents. Rick had gotten Thanksgiving this year, so Lori had claimed Christmas holiday, at least partially. The prospect was a depressing one. Of course Carl still loved his mom, even after everything that had gone down with her and Shane and his dad, and yes, of course he wanted to see her. He just didn't know how to feel about his parents haggling and fighting about him like salesmen at a market.

Sixteen should be old enough for him to be able to make those decisions himself, right?

Shaking himself out of these thoughts, Carl took a deep breath. Was that coffee he smelled?

Okay, that might actually be worth getting out of bed at – he glanced at the clock on the bedside table – eight in the morning. Man, his dad better had a good reason for getting up so early.

He shuddered as his feet touched the cold bathroom floor. He quickly washed his face and then tried taming his long hair. It was sticking up in a cowlick, really undignified looking, and stubbornly held form even when he attacked it with his fingers and a comb. Carl frowned. He would have gotten rid of the excessive locks a long time ago if not for the fact that Rick really seemed to love them. Stroking his hand through Carl's hair, winding it around his fingers, gripping them tight when Carl took his father into his mouth -

He grinned, involuntary yet smug, and let his hair fall into his face. Maybe the hair wasn't that bad after all. He was about to leave the bathroom when he caught a glimpse of his shoulder and neck above his clavicle where his over-sized PJ top had slipped down.

His grin widened when he saw the hickeys and marks his father's mouth had left in its wake yesterday, dark and mean-looking against his pale skin. Satisfaction curled low and hot in Carl's belly, quickly sliding further south.

He would have to be careful when he went to Lori's later and cover it all up. Or did he? There was no way Lori would be able to guess _who_ exactly had left signs of possession all over her young son's body.

The smell of dark roast pulled him out of his musings, and he adjusted himself in his pyjama pants and swiftly made his way downstairs.

His father was busy puttering around in the kitchen when Carl entered the room, making coffee while he was at it. The table was already set, bacon sizzling away in the pan on the stove. Only now Carl noticed the greasy smell mixing with the lingering odor of coffee in the air.

“Dad?” 

Rick turned and smiled at him. “Morning, Carl.”

When Carl didn't say anything, his father gesticulated in the general direction of the kitchen table. “Come on, sit down. I made breakfast.”

Carl arched an eyebrow, slinging his arms around himself for warmth. It was pretty cool in the kitchen this early in the morning. “I can see that,” he said. “Why?”

“Why not?” Rick retorted, then took the pan from the flame and deposited it on the table mat on the kitchen table, next to two plates. Carl followed his dad's suggestion and sat down when he got another nose full of the delicious smell of the strips of well-cooked meat. It might be unexpected that Rick had set this all up but he certainly wasn't complaining now. 

He distributed the food equally between their plates while his father was still busy with the coffee and then began to dig in, not even waiting until Rick had taken a seat.

His dad snorted when he came over, the coffee pot and creamer in his hands. “The least you could do would be waiting for me.”

Carl ignored the jab, instead he took the coffee pot and poured some of the hot liquid into two cups and slid one over to his father. “Bacon can not be resisted. House rules.”

“It's not going anywhere, Carl,” Rick chided, but then he chuckled. “I remember what being your age was like. I was hungry all the darn time. Who knows, maybe if you keep stuffin' yourself like that you'll actually fill out one of these days.” 

“Hey!” Carl put down his fork, mock-offended. Then he thought better of it. “You said you liked that I'm skinny, and light. In fact I think I can recall a particular occurrence where you, and I quote, fucking loved the way I'm so easy to just arrange however you want it -” 

His father coughed. “Language.” His red cheeks told Carl all he needed to know. His father was still having a little trouble sometimes adjusting to the shift in their relationship. Though Carl liked to think of it more as an enrichment, an added facet. Still, he dropped the topic.

“Why the early breakfast, anyway?” he picked up where he had left off before. “Is it a special occasion?” He took a sip of his coffee, then grimaced. “Oh God, what is this? 'Cause it's not coffee.” 

Rick laughed. “It's Folgers.” He nodded to the counter where the tell-tale red box was sitting innocuously. “We were out of anythin' else.”

“Best part of waking up, my ass,” Carl scoffed but drank the concoction anyway. When the devil drives and all that. “So?” 

“What, Christmas morning not special enough for you?” 

Not when he had to be at Lori's in a few short hours, Carl thought. “But we did the whole Christmas-y thing yesterday evening already, gifts, fancy food and all that. Mistletoe? That should definitely ring a bell.” He grinned smugly. His father would never forget that particular experience, that Carl had made sure of.

Rick shrugged, smiling softly at Carl. “Maybe I wanna make the most of the time we have left before I have to give you a ride, Mr Smartypants.”

Carl leered, opening his mouth, but Rick held up his hands. “That's not the kind of ride I mean.”

“But you're not opposed to it?” 

Rick blushed and scratched his salt-and-pepper beard. It was endearing. And hot if you took the beard part into account. Carl definitely did. “Jeez, you're insatiable.”

“But?” 

Rick shook his head, a soft smile grazing his lips. “No buts. Not really. I jus' wanted to give you somethin' first, sweetheart.”

Now it was Carl's turn to blush. The sex stuff? No biggie for him. He could be suave, non-chalant about it. But pet names, endearments? That had him flustered, flushed and stammering every time. And Rick knew it.

“I got it right here,” Carl's father said, standing up from the kitchen table. Carl followed suit.

Rick went to the counter, carefully pulling a small, neatly wrapped package out of the cabinet over the sink. It even had a pretty red bow on it. Carl stepped up next to his father, still blushing.

“Merry Christmas. Again,” Rick said, pressing the present into Carl's hand gently. “I hope you like it.” 

“You know I'll love it”, Carl mumbled. Rick's smile went soft.

“I know,” he simply said. “C'mon, you can open it.” 

Carl obeyed, taking the glittering bow off first. He stopped, looking at red decoration in his hand, and set the gift down on the counter next to him. Then he proceeded to pin the ornament to Rick's sweater. His dad gave him an amused look.

“What are you doing?” he asked. 

Carl couldn't look his dad in the eyes. His cheeks were burning, and he could only hope his blush wasn't as noticeable as it felt. “You're my present this year”, he finally said, looking up at Rick from beneath his lashes.

His father's face went dark for a moment and Carl was afraid that he had overstepped his boundaries. But instead, Rick growled suddenly, moving close really fast, and grabbed Carl, lifting him with ease. Strong hands gripped his hips and deposited him on the counter.

Then Carl was being kissed to within an inch of his life, his father's lips greedy and hot. He moaned and opened his mouth, welcoming Rick's tongue and greeting it with his own.

Apparently his dad appreciated the sentiment. A lot, if the way he manhandled Carl and held him tight was any indication. Carl let himself fall deeper into the kiss, whimpering when Rick cupped his ass through his skimpy pyjama pants, wedging his hands between the cheeks and the cool surface of the kitchen counter.

“Oh,” Carl whimpered when Rick let go of his mouth to trail kisses along his exposed neck, paying special attention to the marks he had left the night before, the sensation of his beard scratchy on Carl's skin yet hot at the same time. Undeniably male, undeniably Carl's father who was putting his mouth all over his son. 

Carl didn't even try to keep quiet when he felt teeth nibbling at his tender skin, twisting his hands in Rick's shirt. “Oh God,” he moaned. “Yes!” Then, when teeth clamped down, not breaking the skin but close: “Daddy!”

Rick growled again, breaking contact only to find his way back to Carl's lips.

“Sorry,” he murmured softly between kisses, “kinda pushed a button there, baby.” 

Carl laughed softly, breathlessly. “You don't say.” He felt Rick smiling against his lips, and couldn't hold back a giggle, solely out of joy. This had to be what pure bliss felt like.

Soon it turned into a string of moans when Rick kept up his ministrations, gently cupping the back of Carl's neck and pulling him even closer, impossibly so. Carl never wanted any space between him and his dad again.

Yet he pulled away after a minute or two. They were on a schedule, and he was determined to make the most of it. “Bedroom?” he asked, smirking up at Rick.

Carl's father nodded, mirroring his son's smile, and Carl tried to untangle himself so they could go up to the room that had been theirs, together, for a while now.

He yelped when Rick didn't let go of him, instead gripping his thighs and lifting him from the counter completely so his weight was unsupported except for Rick holding him up.

Carl instinctively slung his arms around Rick's shoulders. His brain was in danger of short-circuiting at any moment now. “Shit, that's hot,” he moaned. He couldn't imagine anything sexier than the thought of his dad tossing Carl around, his strength, the pure muscle mass of him.

Mirth was dancing in Rick's blue eyes. “You were right,” he said, his voice just a little strained by Carl's not inconsiderable weight. Carl could feel his dad's muscles bunching and shifting under his arms. Rick didn't elaborate further but Carl knew what he meant.

“D'you think you can carry me the whole way upstairs?” he asked excitedly. 

“Oh, that, and so much more, baby boy,” Rick promised in a low voice, just generally making it hard for Carl to think. 

“I'mma hold you to that.” 

*

Folgers could suck it, Carl thought later, laying in bed, sated and sleepy, his dad next to him, right where he belonged. This, this was the best part of waking up.

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
